


Solace

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, NSFW, Reader Insert, Sex, Smut, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The reader and John have been on and off for years. This is one night at the Roadhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

It was dark when John Winchester’s Impala pulled into the lot of the Harvelle Roadhouse. You’d not expected him this weekend, knowing he’d been on a hunt, and hoping he’d forgo the usual celebratory beer and head straight back to his boys. You worried about him a lot, and worrying about him included worrying about the Winchester brothers, kids too young to be involved in this world.

The door opened, and you tried not to show that you’d been watching him through the window, hearing the car before you saw it, not wanting to give away your anxiousness. John went straight for the bar and ordered a whiskey from Bill, who grimaced and nodded. He refused payment, as was usual from hunters coming in for their first drink after they’d ganked something.

‘Bad hunt?’ You asked, slowly sidling up to him, feeling the chill from his jacket reach you through your thin overshirt. There was a fire roaring in the corner, but you weren’t sure if it would warm up the cold you could see in John’s eyes this evening.

He nodded, his jaw clenched and you knew not to push the subject. With John, everything came in its time. You’d learned that the first night you met him. He was a stone facade on the outside, and you’d grown accustomed to it – his guard only came down in the early hours of the night, when he needed that human comfort he’d had torn away from him five years ago.

Without words, he followed you to a corner booth, away from other hunters, away from the bar staff. The Harvelle’s were good people, but sometimes they were a little too well-meaning, and Ellen could be a mother hen when she wanted to be.

Silence was the only communication as you rolled your beer between your hands, enjoying the moisture on your skin, your eyes on John’s drink as he held it in his large right hand, not making a move to drink it. A few bubbles rose to the top and popped without making a sound. John inhaled, before letting the breath out, slowly and deliberately.

'It was a Wendigo. A state over.’ You nodded, raising your eyes to focus on his face as he spoke. His gaze remained on his hands, and you noticed a small gash on the left thumb pad. 'A family in the woods. They were camping; mom, dad, two boys and a little girl. All three of the kids were under ten.’ His next breath was shuddering and you felt tears touch your eyes. You knew what was coming. You knew what was out there. 'I wasn’t fast enough. Managed to save the dad but…I think when he realised what happened, he wished I hadn’t.’ John raised his glass, sipping at the bitter amber liquid. 'I should have gotten there faster.’

You chewed your lip, unsure of what to say. John had reacted badly when he’d been told by others that you can’t save everyone. The problem was, in his line of work, after what had happened to his wife, he was driven to try. And when he failed, he took it hard.

'I’m selfish.’ He whispered, and you looked at him in shock.

'W-why would you say that?’

'Because I’m sitting here feeling bad that I couldn’t save that family. And out there is a guy in a hospital room, torn up by a monster, and he’s lost his entire family.’ John laughed but it was an angry and sour sound. 'I’ve got my boys. And what do I do? I spend all my time dumping them on other people, or in motel rooms, and go off hunting monsters.’

'You’re doing something good, John. That’s not selfish.’ You pointed out.

'I’m not doing enough.’

You frowned, watching him take another swig of his drink. He was getting angry now, you could see it in his eyes. There was only one thing that ignited the fire in John Winchester’s eyes these days, and it was normally along the lines of anger and hatred.

Somehow it just made you love him more.

A sigh escaped you as he retreated into his glass, and you wondered how you’d gotten here. Attachments were dangerous – you’d learned that before. John was no different, yet you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You watched Ellen and Bill, jealous of their ability to have a family and a home, whilst you and others lived like nomads. And there was John, straddling the line between nomadic and trying to build a stable home for his boys. You knew he’d never accomplish it. There was no way to. His boys would grow up in this life – hell, little Dean was already a pro with a sawn-off and he’d only just passed nine years of age.

'Where are the boys, John?’

John waved a hand as he flung the remainder of his drink down his throat, and you knew he was already half cut from the one glass of whiskey, which probably meant he hadn’t eaten properly for a while. 'They’re with Bobby. I couldn’t…I couldn’t go back to them…like this…’ It wasn’t the first time he’d been reluctant to return to his boys after a hunt gone wrong. And you couldn’t blame him. Dean and Sam already knew too much, Sam less than his brother, but he was already suspecting things, even at the tender age of five.

You held up a hand, and Bill brought over two more beers. You slid one to John, knowing it would be better if he stayed off of the rough stuff tonight. He took the drink, and Bill looked down at you. You smiled, trying to reassure him that you had this covered. It wasn’t your first rodeo, after all.

'I wish…’ John muttered, picking at the label on the beer. You waited, not wanting to interrupt him. 'I wish this had never happened.’

'I think we all wish that, John.’ You whispered in return, trying not to think about your own history. You’d lost your parents young, but you’d never had to shoulder the burden that John had. You probably never would.

'I miss her so much. She’d know what to do.’ He was talking about Mary now. Some other people would be cut by the mention of his wife, even though she was dead, but you understood. You knew where he was. He would always love Mary. And even if he never loved you, it was enough to know that the both of you sought some solace in each others arms for brief moments.

He looked up, bloodshot eyes connecting with yours. 'I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be -’

'John, it’s fine.’ You gave him a small smile, reaching out to take his hand, your smoother fingers wrapping around his calloused ones, and he squeezed back gently. 'I know the history. If you need to talk, then talk.’

'I shouldn’t talk about her to you.’

'Why not?’

'Because of…well, because we’re…’ Words failed him and he smiled a little. 'It’s complicated huh?’

'It is. But it doesn’t mean I don’t know how much you loved Mary. I know you did, and I’m not about to cut you down for it. She’s your wife.’ You kept your words in the present because it was true. Mary would always be his wife, taken from him, but still his wife nonetheless. He nodded at this, and wiped at his eyes.

'I don’t know how you can be so understanding of all this.’ He gestured around himself, and you chuckled.

'We’ve all got our crosses to bear, Winchester.’ His fingers squeezed yours again at the playful use of his surname. 'Now. Whatever you need to get off your chest, then talk.’

He took a few moments, his expression stoic as he swigged at his beer, and you could almost see him sorting his thoughts out, like cards on the table.

'I just feel like she’d know what to do. Sammy…he’s growing up so fast. And he’s so smart. Dragging him from school to school…what I’m doing isn’t right, I know that. But I can’t stop.’ John took a breath. 'Sometimes I wonder if I should have left them in care, if they would have been better off but damn it, I can’t give up the last piece of Mary I have left. Those boys…they’re my world.’

His voice was breaking, genuine emotion swallowing him whole. He wasn’t even focused on you now, but his hand remained encased in your delicate fingers, and he was holding on tightly, using you like an anchor against his feelings.

'Dean asked me the other day what would happen if the monsters killed me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.’ He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and you did the same, wishing it would be easier to take this burden from him. 'I told him that wouldn’t happen. He’s terrified of losing Sammy. I find him curled up in the same bed with his little brother most nights. Nightmares make him scared of sleeping alone.’

'He’ll grow out of it.’

'He shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have nightmares about fires, and his mother burning. He shouldn’t remember blood. He shouldn’t know how to use a damn gun.’

You put your other hand over the one already holding his, looking at him earnestly. 'This life…it’s better you know what’s coming. And you said that there was something haunting your family. You’re doing the right thing, John.’

'But am I doing it the wrong way?’ He asked.

'I can’t tell you that.’ You sat back, releasing his hands. 'You’re their father. And you have to trust that what you’re doing is right by them. If you doubt yourself…that’s how you get killed.’

He nodded, looking down at his own rough palms, not speaking for a few moments. You watched him, wondering if he was going to leave, go home to his boys. He should. Part of you acknowledged that. The rest of you just wanted one more night with him. Just so he knew he wasn’t alone.

The fire crackled loudly, and you jumped, your focus on the man opposite you broken. He chuckled dryly, looking over his shoulder to the log fire before looking back to you. 'One log cracks and you jump six foot.’ You scowled.

'Shut up.’

John laughed then, and you knew he was filtering everything through. Tomorrow he’d barely remember his confessions. 'Make me.’

You picked up your beer, draining it, before standing up and heading for the door. You plucked your coat from the rack, and slid it over your arms before turning back. John had followed you, leaving a few bills on the table where you’d been sat.

'Where do you think you’re going?’

'Back to my motel.’ You replied, shrugging.

He reached out, pulling you close by the sleeve of your jacket, his lips millimetres from yours. 'Without me?’

You smirked. 'I can’t make that decision for you, John.’ He laughed, before kissing you firmly.

Bill cleared his throat, ignoring the chortles of other patrons. 'Will you two get a room?’

Raising a hand, you pulled away from John, smiling over his shoulder. 'On our way, Bill. See you later.’ Turning away from the bar, you practically dragged John through the door. He pointed at the Impala, and raised an eyebrow.

'You think I’d be able to resist a ride in that beauty.’

'I knew you were only interested in my car.’ He bantered playfully. You winked, before climbing into the passenger side. Your motel was only a mile or so away, and your car was perfectly safe where it was. As John started the engine, you smiled at him coyly, before relaxing into the passenger seat as he drove away.

'It’s just down here on the left’, you said as he approached the motel and he nodded, pulling into the parking lot smoothly, stopping the engine and watching as you climbed out before following suit.

As you walked towards your room, John came up behind you, pulling you into his arms and kissing your neck, his rough stubble tickling your jawline. A giggle erupted from your mouth, and he growled, turning you in his hold and pushing you against the wall with a thud. You hoped the room behind you was unoccupied, but the thought swiftly left your head as John’s mouth descended on your throat, licking and sucking at your skin, grinding his hips against you, his hardness all too evident against your belly.

'I need you.’ He grunted, almost feral in his urgency and you gasped as he bit your neck gently. You wanted to reply, to affirm that you needed him too, but all that came out was a strangled whimper of need. Digging your keys from your jacket pocket, John quickly took them and scanned for the door number, before returning his attention to you. He pulled you close, hooking one leg around his hips, grinding against your centre, before he pulled your other leg up, pinning you against the wall.

Someone whistled at you, and you pulled away, looking around. A couple of teens loitering in the parking lot made you blush, and John followed your gaze to glare at them.

'Probably wishing they could get a woman this hot.’ He grumbled, before dropping you to the ground and pulling you towards your room. You let him drag you, not willing to argue, not even _wanting_ to argue. As soon as the door slammed on the outside world, he was upon you again, his hands everywhere at once, his tongue laving a trail of desire across your jaw, down towards your breasts. His skilful fingers weaned your jacket from your arms, tossing it to the floor, your overshirt following. The thin tee you wore underneath didn’t stay where it was for long, but John grunted in frustration as he got to your bra, his impatience getting the better of him.

'Too many fucking clothes.’ He growled, and you giggled, reaching around your own back to unhook the offensive undergarment. When you were topless and revealed to his gaze, he smiled like a predator, sending shivers cascading down your spine in anticipation. 'Much better.’ His hands pulled you close again, his lips descending on yours as he fought to thrust his tongue into your mouth. One hand slid from your waist to your breast, twisting and pinching the nipple, making you groan against him. He broke away from your mouth, dipping his head to capture the other nipple in his teeth, making you yelp as he stimulated the sensitive bud. His tongue swirled around the peak of your breast, and you threw your head back, revelling in the feelings he was arousing in you.

His other hand left your waist, trusting you to stay upright as he fiddled with the button on your pants, deftly undoing them and pushing the fabric down over your thighs. The trousers pooled at your feet, around your boots and you toed them off trying not to dislodge him from where he was paying close attention to your nipple. He switched sides, allowing you a brief second to kick your pants away, your hand tangling in his messy thatch of dark hair.

When John pulled away, you groaned at the loss, watching as he stood straight and reached over to turn on the lamp on the wall. 'Sorry, but I wanna see you, all of you. Not enough light to appreciate anything in here.’ He pushed you towards the bed gently, and you allowed the movement, letting him guide you down onto the cheap hotel mattress. 'Fuck, you’re beautiful.’ He whispered, almost sadly as he loomed over you, his arms holding him up either side as he bent his head to kiss you. Your legs were pinned underneath his weight, but your hands were free, and you divested him of his jacket as he kissed you hard. His cock was straining against his jeans, pressing into your centre and you couldn’t control the spiralling need in your belly. Your panties were drenched and John chuckled at your urgency to undress him.

'Stay still.’ He whispered, sliding down the length of your body to find a comfortable spot between your thighs. He pressed his nose to your moist centre, through the fabric of your underwear and inhaled, which made you shiver again. 'You smell delicious.’ He hooked one finger in your panties, pulling them aside, before tracing one finger over your labia. You whimpered, and he smiled, slowly dragging one finger through your folds before sinking it into your dripping entrance, up the knuckle, moving it around to stimulate your walls. You clenched around him, desperate for more friction, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Adding another finger, John leant forward, stroking your clit with the tip of his tongue, the roughness of his cheeks only adding more sensation against your thighs. You groaned and arched your back as he twisted and pumped his long fingers inside your cunt, searching out that sweet spot he knew would make you scream for him.

His tongue pushed at your clit hard, and with a crook of his index finger, he found what he wanted, and you clamped down on him, your hips undulating under the pressure of your orgasm, John’s mouth coaxing you the whole way through as you cried out his name.

The world felt like falling stars for a few moments, and when you opened your eyes, the room seemed a little brighter. John’s weight was gone from your body, and you looked around, propping yourself up on your elbows to see him stood over the bed. He’d turned another lamp on and had stripped, now stood completely naked, his hard cock in his hand. He pumped the length of it slowly, his eyes on you, like a man starved. You smiled, pulling your panties down your legs and scrambling up the bed a little. He watched you move, then crawling onto the bed, stalking you like prey.

'John…’ You said quietly, almost begging and he pounced, pulling your legs downwards so your back hit the mattress with a thud. With a quick movement, he straddled your left leg, pulling your right up so your ankle was resting on his shoulder and you gasped at the feeling of being opened up to him. He grasped his cock again, rubbing the head against your entrance and you moaned, heavy lidded eyes watching him from the pillows.

'You want this, baby?’ He asked, his voice low, rough, enticing. 'Want my cock inside you?’

'You know I do.’ You whispered. 'Please, John.’

Slowly, inch by inch, he sank inside your warmth until his pelvis was pressed against you. He couldn’t kiss you from this angle, but he always said he liked watching the expressions on your face as he fucked you anyway, and now was no different. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back into you, the angle affording him some extra depth, and giving you more stimulation to the sweetest spots of your womanhood. Setting a pace, he held your hips, occasionally having to push your ankle higher onto his shoulder as he fucked you relentlessly into the mattress.

'You’re a fucking goddess,’ he grunted, his fingertips leaving bruises in their wake. 'Such a beautiful girl.’ You always blushed when he called you a girl, considering you weren’t all that much younger than him. But right now, you were too busy with you impending orgasm for your cheeks to colour. As you screamed your climax and came hard around his cock, John dropped your leg,pulling you closer, his weight on you. You didn’t mind, you were already panting and you liked him being closer to you.

'John…’ You pleaded, clenching around him, and he held you close, kissing you without pause, his cock still pounding into your pussy. His fingers threaded through your hair as you felt his hardness swell and pulse within you, and he exploded, pulling you into the abyss with him, the kiss breaking as he panted hot air across your face. Sweat made your bodies slick as you both came down from your highs, and you remained still for several moments.

Without speaking, John pulled away, not bothering to clean himself up as he rolled to the side, lifting the covers up. He motioned for you to scoot underneath and you did so, trying not to act surprised when he pulled you close once more, his arms wrapping around you like a cocoon.

John Winchester didn’t cuddle, and the certainty of what was happening sunk into you like a lead weight settling in your stomach. He wouldn’t be there when you woke up. It was unlikely you’d see him again. He was ending it, without saying anything, because he knew it would be too painful for either of you. You would never stand in the way of his sons, or the memory of his wife and he would never ask you to.

You had fallen in love with John Winchester, and you’d known all along it would end in tears.

But for now, you could only take this last night.

At least you had that.


End file.
